Angel's Deathly Touch (Skyeward AU)
by ifedexit
Summary: In an alternate universe, Grant Ward is an angel of death who was once human but was appointed to be an angel. But when he carries Skye to Heaven, he feels an attraction to her over talking to her. After decades of waiting, Grant finally forgets that he is different than his brothers. But one decision will make him either human or force someone to become an angel with him.
1. Prolouge

I sighed, looking down as Michael gave me the orders. I was all too familiar with the "job" by now, carrying a soul to the final stage of death. It had never been fun but he also knew death came in its own time and time was never wrong.

I peered over the empty spot formed in the clouds, my eyes widening slightly. It was a girl, with brown hair and auburn curls, struggling on life support. "They're going to pull the plug," I heard from behind me. I looked back to Michael, my eyebrows pulling together in frustration.

"Why? She can make it." This was a new response from me and it was written all over my brother's face. Never in all of my centuries had I argued with an order. There was something unsettling inside myself; was it the fact that I was usually unsympathetic and uncaring with my delivering that I was scared for this girl?

"She has been fighting for too long. This is her time," my brother answered, his eyes showing patience that only he could. Gabriel was fierce, Zechariah being brutal and ill- tempered. But Michael was kind and humorous, the best of all of the brothers.

"I don't like this," I mumbled, but positioned my body for flying. My wings were still tucked in but ready to spread when I willed them.

"Is it the mission or is it the girl?" Michael inquired, crossing his arms but holding no hostility in his stance.

I shook my head, already diving through the atmosphere. I knew at one time, there had been an angel just like me, one who had brought me to Heaven once. But things changed and I, being as I was trained to have no emotion or attachments, became the new angel of to blame for the loss of life.

The landing was gentle, my wings still staying visible but not spread out. However, the girl's spirit was wild and hysterical, most likely from seeing the man next to her bedside. She tried desperately to get his attention, even hitting him in an attempt to get him to hear her, much less see her.

"He won't hear you." My voice was soft compared to much times, but chills instantly traveled through my spine as she turned on her heel to confront me.

"I know that!" she snapped, crossing her arms like Michael had before. "What I want to know is why he can't."

I sighed, turning and leaning on the bar of her bed gently, my hands settling on it as well. "Because you're not in your body. You're dead, really. I just have to get you to where you belong now."

"No!" Her tone had risen in anger, her eyes showing just how much the thought pained her. "You can't.." Silence was over them until I found the words to say. That was one of the gifts I had in my life; I was a master at manipulation and could make anyone believe anything I told them if it hit the right places. And I found those places against every crevice.

"Just let go," I whispered, pushing off the bar until only inches separated them. "It'll be much easier that way. You'll be out of pain and your boyfriend could move on. He wouldn't have to spend every waking moment at your side. Don't you want what's best for him?"

"Well yes, but-" she started, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"But nothing." My hand moved to focus her on her boyfriend's face, already knowing that I hit home the second her eyes laid on his figure. "He's suffering far more than you are ever going to at point. You have to let go." My last sentence was merely out in a whisper, knowing that softness would push her over the edge.

"What'll happen to me if I do?" she asked, the question almost choked out.

"You'll go to Heaven." I focused my attention on the man before me beginning to scream her name: Skye.

"Let's go," Skye said, turning and blinking back more tears. Her breath shook as she pulled me into an unwilling hug. I put one hand on her waist and took off, feeling the quick air brush off my feathers and the remaining echos of her name.

I came to a sudden stop, hearing the sobs below me. And strangely, for the first time since I had become an angel, I wanted to hold her closer than she was and comfort her, a _**human.**_ Why did I want to assure that she would see her other half again?

And in the same moment of my last thought, the tears and sobbing stopped. Her arms removed themselves from me and she was radiant with a joy that only Heaven could supply.

She began to take the solid road of gold when she turned back to me. "What's your name?"

My eyebrows pulled together in confusion, almost shocked at the new kindness she had found. "What?"

Skye laughed, putting her hands in her pockets and giving me a look of amusement. "I asked you for your name."

"Grant," I took a step towards her, a smile almost appearing on his lips.

"What a name for angel.." she mused, her eyes bright with curiosity. Her former sorrow was gone as if she had forgotten it. "Most names are old-fashioned."

My lips pressed together for just a moment. She was reminding me of what I already knew; I was nothing like my brothers. They had always been angels but I was made into one by my Father's request. But my answer came before my mind could catch up with me. "I suppose there are few who were once human but became angels if they were deemed worthy." _**Angel.**_ The word gnawed at the back of my mind still, mainly because I was never an intentional creation. I was simply a replacement for the heartless man before me.

'Well, worthy one, I'll see you later." She turned on her feet and walked away, almost like she was a feather in the air. What was it that made her get under his skin? Or that made her truly think about her was never actually meant to be what he was?

I waved the idea away, turning to find Michael behind me. His eyebrows raised, a small smile on his lips but his eyes moving around my face in analyzation. He saw through me better than most of our kin but not quite all the way.

"Quite friendly with the new passenger, are we?" He pointed to the figure that was slowly disappearing, a smirk sketching onto his mouth to replace his smile.

"Shut it, brother," I mumbled in response, crossing my arms to keep my image of rough edges to par. "She's just a girl. It's not like I haven't done this before, you know."

"Right. Well, don't be late for the dinner. Father wants to speak with us." Michael passed by me, nudging me as he went. He laughed, his laughter soon filling the clouds before fading out eventually.


	2. Brothers of Heaven and Earth

Author's Note:

To those of you wondering, there are some characters in her that sound like characters in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., like Michael for instance. Sounds a lot like Coulson (especially with the quote thrown in there). It is true that some angels are very alike to S.H.I.E.L.D. but Coulson and other characters will still make appearances as humans. I hope that makes sense! Anyways.. Please enjoy and thank you for all of the lovely people who have followed/favorited this story!

Sleep. It's something that is a once- a- year thing for angels. Unless you have a human vessel in Heaven, like I do. There's only three of us who can sleep and yet, even with the gift, I don't. I can't. At night, all I've ever thought about is how I'm not like my brothers.

I've been told that they are scary but that I'm terrifying. Is it the fact that I'm an angel of death or is it that I am a brutal? All I have to get from the people I deliver is permission. I usually trick them, if I'm honest with anyone. But I can carry thousands at a time as well. It's a gift, I suppose.

And then there's my humanity. No matter how hard I've tried to forget, my real family stays with me. The only one I actually loved out of them all was my brother, Thomas. He was gentle, kind, **dead**; I still can't forgive myself for him ending up in Heaven before myself.

But despite all the havoc that went on inside my mind, I sat up and looked around to where I had tried to sleep. It was a room in Thomas's house. He had never blamed me, mainly because he knew I didn't want to hurt him, that I had tried to avoid it with all of my being.

I disappeared into thin air, finding the golden streets again. Some figures walked along the road but with smiles and seeing the scenery differently than others. But aside of the road, about in the middle of the grass, there was a glowing of another kind and a black silhouette sat in front of it.

With a hint of interest, I strolled to find the face of the unknown. And as I reached the light, I found thick, chestnut ringlets and a smile. Green colored digits with a black background engulfed the computer screen, some words in the mix as well. It seemed to be out of the ordinary, even if I had seen some of the oddest images of Heaven.

"So this is Heaven for you," I mumbled, leaning my hand on the desk. A laugh escaped Skye's lips, sending a shiver down not only my spine but my wings. It send my feathers making sounds as if they were lightly flapping in the wind.

"Computers are kind of my thing." She side glanced to me before beginning a "protocol". She grinned and sat back in her chair, lifting a glass with red liquid to her lips. She took a drink before setting it down again and checking her computer screen. She frowned slightly as the words "**ACTION DENIED**" in big, bold letters.

"If you're trying to screw with Heaven, you're not going to get very far," I murmured with a smirk.

"What makes you so sure?" There was a slight defiant curve in her lips. Sure, Heaven has no sorrow or anger but it didn't smash out an entire personality. It seemed as though she was Hell bent on proving me wrong about not accomplishing this one thing.

"Because you don't run it." I laughed and manifested a chair as she threw me an amused glare. I sat down so I could study her features better; the way she took a deep breath and exhaled it so her bangs flew up, the way her brows furrowed together in frustration.

She gave my a slight look down before finally speaking. "So what's your story?" I knew it was a distraction but even so, I found myself tensing up and looking to Thomas's house. And even so, no matter how much of a home all around me was, that small and light blue-grey house was more of a home than anything I had.

"Before I was an angel," I began, "I was trained to get the job done. I didn't get attached or emotional about anyone." I began to slip down in my chair, ending up at a slight angle. "But I didn't make it after the last mission. I was supposed to disable a weapon and before I knew it, I was dead." It was a bit more blunt that she might have wanted but that was how I was.

My eyes fell to my hands, touching a scar that I had earned so long ago. My fingers slipped up to the longer scar that ran up from the side of my wrist and almost to my elbow. All of them showed that I was a warrior, that I could handle what anyone threw at me. Sometimes it was figuratively and others are more literally.

"When did these things come in?" Skye asked, giving the top of my wings with a flick with her middle finger. They began to spread slightly, shudders running through them before tucking themselves back in. Even if I willed them, they occasionally had their own movements.

I lifted my gaze back to my brothers' house, the earthy colors catching my attention for a moment. "God said I was the guy for the job." I pulled forward some of my hair on the side of my head, showing a thin but still red scar. "So he touched my head and before I knew it, I had wings larger than most of the angels here."

"What are you staring at?" she questioned, spinning in her chair until she faced Thomas's house. "Who lives there?"

I sighed, fixing my hair slightly, my dark brown orbs flickering to her for a moment. "It's my brothers' house. His name is Thomas." Images flashed before my eyes of the times we had spent together. He was safe here, especially with me.

Before I had died, I had visited my brothers, Christian. I used intimidation (and beating him nearly to death) to have him admit to forcing me to beat Thomas, to push him into our well… The memories haunted me, more so when Christian confessed to having someone murder our little brother.

I had sprung out into a rage, killing not only him but our mother and father. My mother and father was for my vengeance but Christian was for Thomas. I couldn't let him by with killing one of the few I loved. I had set my parents on fire and stabbed him in the heart. I put his hand on the knife and walked away after setting the place on fire again.

"You look like you really care about him," Skye commented, snapping me back into reality. She gave me a faint smile, her hands lacing together.

"I do. He's my baby brother. I can protect him here and I couldn't down there." I could hear the change in my voice and feel my expression morphing into a slight pain. I still blamed myself despite knowing Christian had given me no other options.

"What do you mean you couldn't protect him?" Her face read confusion and rightfully so. How could I expect her to understand what my whole childhood had held without telling her?

I opened my mouth to explain; she would be the only one I had told in my whole life time. Even my brothers knew nothing of what I had done. And then there was God; he knew everything. But before I could get a word out, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Brother, have you got a moment?" Michael asked, his eyes gentle but having a purpose hidden behind them. He looked down to Skye for a moment before lifting his gaze back to me. He held my arm tightly with a grip that would've broken my bones if I wasn't an angel.

"I do now, I guess," I replied, sighing and walking away from the computers and from Skye. "What?" My tone was exasperated, my eyes searching his.

He gave a tight smile, tiredness beginning to show in the crinkles near his eyes. "If I must say, you are catching up with your last passenger very.. intently." He gave a condescending chuckle, shaking his head. "You know what happens if you continue on this path, don't you?"

"Not really, no. What happens if I keep talking to people? They'll disappear?" I sighed, running my hands over my face in irritation. I had gotten this conversation from Zechariah and Joshua several times. They all loved our Father but they believed in something different; they believed that we were better than humans because all of the things we could do that they could not.

But I remembered the talk I had with God once. We were **not** better, mainly because they had choices to love him and we were created to love him. He explained it as having the power to destroy the world but only if someone gave you the order to, whereas humans had the choice to burn down the world, even if it caused resentment on all parties.

Michael's arrogance that my brothers had warned me of began to show as bitterness grew in his eyes. What had humans carried out to give such a reaction out of him? "Do you not remember Zephiania? He fell into the very trap that you are falling into and fell in love. With a _human_!" This was a rare side to him that I had never seen before. Yes, he was a warrior like the rest of us but his actions had never held the same rage as the one he had now.

I sighed and nodded; I had remembered all too well. Even though he was our brother, we took him in, made sure he held no memories of her before sending him back out to be a messenger once again. But he found her, nevertheless, by scratching at the wall we had placed. And eventually, we let go, watching him fall into humanity with her. Occasionally, we would look upon him, make sure he was safe.

"But I want you to know that I'm not a fool. I know how to keep my emotions in check, you know that. I've carried hundreds in one second. No human or angel can stop when my orders have been given." And then, I did something I haven't done in ages.

I walked away from him, hitting his shoulder against mine and hearing the hollowness of our bones in perfect sync because of the collision. He caught my elbow, his jaw clenched in anger. "Where in Heaven are you going?"

"I'm going to go home, brother. Now leave me be." I disappeared from his grip, reappearing just beyond the threshold of Thomas's house. I looked around, hoping I hadn't woken him up before sauntering to the kitchen. I wasn't exactly angry because I understood the loss of a brother but a fire was inside me. How could Michael think that humans were beneath us?

"Grant?" Thomas's voice called, footsteps on the stairs falling it. "Is that you?" He was still so young, just barely thirteen. But nevertheless, he was dead. I remembered holding him, watching his hand curl around my index finger. It was that moment were I knew I would protect him with my life. I _had_ to save him from the same destruction that had plagued my life, that scarred my back.

I turned, my gaze becoming gentle. "Yeah, it's me. What are you doing up this late?" He joined my side, causing my hand to raise and mess with the top of his hair. He laughed a golden laugh, one that used to make me smile after my mother had torn my back to the point of making me look like a slaughtered animal.

"I was getting up anyway." He grinned before going into his kitchen, holding the door for me. I walked through as well, meeting him at the counter. "Are you doing anything today? They're having parent day in class. I wanted to bring my brother." He punched my shoulder, his eyes bright with hope.

That's one of the things that confused me about Heaven. They had classes for those who never lived long enough to actually have life on Earth. It made people like Thomas happy, even though the classes had lasted for him at least three centuries. He had died at the age of ten. _**Ten.**_

I shrugged, looking outside to a Sun beginning to rise again. How long had I spent talking to Skye and wondering around? "I have no idea. I have to work today most likely but I'll try as hard as I can to make it." I leaned against the counter, my arms crossed over my chest. "Which class is it?"

The classes lasted for four hours and at the end of the day, I walked Thomas home. He and I had grown closer since I had died; he seemed to need me more now than he had then. Even when I did protect him from Christian's wrath, he learned to survive until the end.

"The fourth. I mean, you don't have to come but I just thought…" I could see the disappointment in his expression beginning to form, only to grow when I shook my head.

"I'll be there. I promise." There had been plenty of times in my human life that I had promised things and failed. But I didn't have the ability to fail now so I hadn't failed him yet. I gave him a nod of the head before pushing off the counter and retrieving a bottle of wine from the fridge.

The red liquid rushed into the glass I had picked out, only to be stopped when I had another of my brother's voices. '_Duty calls, Grant. You have seven to do right now. Six hundred in the next three hours. Step on it.'_

I groaned, rolling my eyes at Zechariah's frigid tone; he agreed with Michael that humans were maggots. "I'll see you in four hours. I'll make sure the office calls you." I vanished into thin air and ended up at Michael's side, seeing ten openings from where we stood.

"You know what you have to do," Michael bluntly announced, walking away. He engrained the times of each death in my mind by touching my temple before taking his own leave of absence. I looked around and took a deep breath, focusing on the part of my mind that allowed me to multiply myself.

I closed my eyes and focused on the searing pain, suddenly surrounded by seven versions of myself. I smirked at them before we all dove down and broke the atmosphere of Heaven once again, finding the target that the real version of myself was assigned.

It was a man in a black suit, his hands in his pockets. He gave me the look of familiarity and I realized that I recognized him. He was one of the few that I hadn't been able to carry over based on circumstances. His body was limp in a machine but no one screamed from him like they had for Skye. Had he been alone in his last moments like he had the first time?

"Is she there?" he asked, looking to me and sighing. "Or do I have to wait for everyone else?" There was no longing for pity or sympathy like the first time; Phil Coulson knew this procedure all too well, it seemed.

"Who?" I may have been a smart ally back in my days but that was long ago. I was a little slower on following people's thoughts, especially with the acquired innocence that came with being an angel. It was one of the few things that was irritating about it; certain things were wiped out of my memories because they were "impure."

"Skye. Is she there?" He turned to me on his heel, putting his hand on my shoulder. He was ready from the looks of it. I gave him a nod, an unexpected smile appearing on both of our mouths. He evidently knew her somehow, someway. And I could only imagine that she would be there waiting for him gratefully.

Three hours passed quickly, souls struggling with me but still giving an unexpected permission. I did have blood on my arms and neck, mainly from some struggling as they went. Cuts covered my body but healed as I broke back into Heaven's surface.

It was more amusing, however when I stumbled into Thomas's classroom just after all the parents had shut the door. The children's eyes were wide with surprise with how much blood covered my body, some my own and some not. But Thomas only smiled and gave me a gesture he had learned with the others. His thumb was out and his hand raised first to volunteer for our session.

His hand lowered as he stood, making his way in front of the classroom. I joined him, putting my arm on his head teasingly. I smiled down at him as he began to speak. "This is my brother, Grant. He's an angel." I recognized some of the children; I had carried them as well. And as I looked in their eyes, I knew they recognized me too.

I spread my wings, seeing the ash-grey colored feathers with splashes of blood on it. I gave a slightly guilty smile before nodding my head in agreement. "I am an angel because Father has appointed me to be. I am an angel of death."

Their eyes widened as some of them exchanged looks, others stared at me with expressions that seemed to say, "I knew it was you." And as I saw the accusing gazes of them, I wanted to say that I didn't want to, that I was doing what He had told me to do.

The hour ended with children stroking my wings, getting the ashes on their hands to reveal my white plumes. And I walked away with Thomas walking next to me and my hand on his shoulder. I smiled down at him and he seemed to beam with an unknown pride.

I stopped when the lustrous, golden streets reached out to us, giving him a nod. "I'll see you later tonight. If you need me, you know where to find me. Stay out of trouble." I gave his hair one more tousle, sending him running while trying to rearrange the new found tangles.

"Is that Thomas?" a sly, velvet voice asked from behind me. I turned to find Skye with a blue flannel shirt resting on her shoulders and black jeans underneath. Her combat boots were double-tied but the lip was tucked out almost to the label.

"Yes." My tone took a new turn; I wasn't supposed to be talking to her. But there was something about her, something that made her a variable but a pleasant variable. She was like a rose with dangerous thorns.

"He looks like you," Skye mumbled softly, crossing her arms and moving to my side as I began to walk. It was light conversation, on my part and hers but not necessarily a pleasant one.

"Thank you, I guess." I shrugged, my hands moving into my pockets as more times seared themselves into the back of my mind like a brand against skin. I hated it more every time it happened, like I was some piece that was owed by my brothers. Wasn't it enough to have to carry the world on my shoulders and in my arms. "I'll have to talk later, I suppose. I have work."

She nodded and gave me a smile, one that I mirrored back to her. But I lifted my gaze and found the shadows, a pair of brown eyes looked on mine with brown hair. The only thing I could find was disapproval from my brother, one I know would "fix the problem" before it started.


	3. Like Brother, Like Traitor

_Author's Note:_

_Michael in this story is like how the old Coulson would have been (sorry for the slight misunderstanding). The Coulson in the old days didn't give second chances and he also did whatever it took to keep things "clean." I do love the new Coulson a hell of a lot better though! No disses on the old Coulson either. I love them both but that it is how I took a spin on his old character from what one his former recruits said about him. _

_The next update on A Thesis of the Mind will be coming soon. I love you all! Thank you for all the positive feedback!_

I disappeared into thin air before Michael could find me but it seemed he already had. I found myself strapped down to a chair, men surrounding me on all sides. They turned to look at me, showing the faces of what I believed were my brothers: Zechariah, Joshua, Gladriel, Micarius, Wilkin, and Daraius. Were they going to help with whatever was going to happen to me?

Michael walked in, his eyes meeting mine. "Grant, I know you must feel betrayed, that we are all going against you in this. But I assure you, my brother, this is for you and for Heaven." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I told our Father that humans would destroy us, just like they did with Zephiania. But I let you have your brother. He was there for you before we were, but that doesn't mean you find another human to attach yourself to! Are we not enough?"

His face was read with a burning anger, one that seemed to tear open Heaven and be manifested from Hell. "This is the only way I know how to save you. You know what it's like to protect someone you love; that's what I'm doing for you. Can't you see that?" His expression was almost bewildered with disbelief.

My eyes widened as he came closer, my hands struggling against the restraints, as well as my legs. "We're brothers, Michael. You don't have to do this." I saw no change in his eyes, nor no difference in the rest of them. "I won't make it easy, you know."

My hand fell, providing a knife in my hand. I cut the hand restraint and lunged for Michael, only to have Zechariah at my side. He held down my arm with a violent grip, Wilkin joining on the other side of me. Ropes appeared on my legs, holding them back tightly.

"Now, Grant, I have to wipe the slate," Michael began, taking a blade out, Heavenly inscription written on both sides. "I can't have you lost. You are my brother and I will not lose you like I lost Zephiania; no matter how much I must damage you," he explained, sending the blade into my thigh.

I clenched my teeth together, cries of pain escaping me as the next knife entered my thigh. Swords were driven through my arms, causing my shouts to shake the room violently. Where was our Father? Could he hear me? Or had Michael convinced him that it was for the best?

On each side of my temple and on the back of my head, strings with hooked ends attached sent shocks following the sensation of the hooks clamping into my scalp. Yells of agony rolled off my lips as the electricity spread through my veins. How long had our former brother had to endure this?

"I'm sorry, Grant. This is the only way," I heard before my eyes shut out the Heavens in a veil of blue and green bolts.

I awoke with a start, finding Thomas above me with a look of worry. "Are you alright?" His blonde hair was spiked up in a manner that showed he had been sleeping. His eyes focused on my arms with suspicion but nothing was questioned.

Pain hummed under my skin as I sat up, reminding me that I still had a human vessel that could feel more than the other angels could. "I'm fine. How did I get here?" My eyebrows furrowed together as I looked around, trying to remember but failing to find my answer. Had I fallen asleep for once?

"I don't know. One moment you're not there and then the next, you're lying on the floor," he replied, shrugging. His look of worry smoothed over as he ran a hand through his hair. "I don't have classes today so I was going to sleep in for a bit, alright?"

I gave him a nod in response and vanished, finding my bedroom in Thomas's house. I cleaned up, using almost four wash cloths to remove the dirt and blood from my body. My fingers touched the holes and cuts into my flesh, seeing the healing that was beginning. On each side of my temples, there were puncture wounds with a symbol in the middle. Black was at the end of the puncture wounds, showing that I would have to live with more scar tissue. What on Earth had happened to me?

After putting on a blue-grey shirt, I placed a leather jacket over it to cover my unknown wounds. I would have to ask Michael about what had happened to me. Had I lost part of my powers or was my vessel failing on me? It had never before but then again, things had changed before in Heaven.

I looked to the window, seeing different versions of Heaven all over the ground. Some held rain but had laughter, others contained the sun at their perfect temperature. It all seemed so simple, so innocent; in ways, I missed being human. In other ways, I was glad that I wasn't, that I didn't feel as much as they did.

One section caught my eye, however, out of all the Heavens that were before me. It was a woman, brown hair in curls, standing with a man. It wasn't unusual but I knew the man that she stood with: Phil Coulson. Carrying him had been difficult the second time, mainly because I thought he would slip through my hands as he had the first time.

He smiled at the girl next to him as if she were his daughter. She seemed familiar, most likely a soul I had ripped from the Earth's clutches. But something about her familiarity tugged at my memory. Why couldn't I remember her? I remembered everyone, their times, their places; all of them except her.

Her brown eyes shifted to the window and found me, her hand lifting up. She waved, a smile sketching itself onto her lips. I tilted my head in confusion before pulling the curtain between us. None of the souls that I carried ever waved at me, much less acted friendly to me. Why was she? What made her so different?

I cleared my throat and walked out of my room, finding my brother back onto the couch. I felt the edges of my lips curl into a smile because he looked so peaceful. He had every reason to as well; he was safe here.

I opened the door, taking in the scent of rain and blooming flowers all at once. I searched left and right before entering the house, being sure that I wasn't being hunted. But why did I feel that way? No demon nor the devil himself could enter without God's consent. So why did I feel as though something sinister was close?

I looked around, catching the girl's eye once again. I bit my lip, unable to look away from her but unable to stay where I was for much longer. I faded from the air and appeared in Lucian's headquarters, seeing children with their family members. His eyebrows rose when he saw me, his lips sketched with wonder. "Grant? May I help you?"

He had helped me find Thomas when I was human and was more accepting of my relationship with my real brother, unlike my other angelic brothers. "I heard that you can recover memories. Is it true?"

"Yes, I can. I can also remove memories that might cause pain and such. Why do you wish to know?" His green eyes held genuine curiosity, as if he knew my situation was different.

"I need you to look in my head and find the last twenty four hours in my mind. I can't remember anything about yesterday. Is it just my human vessel or is it my brain?" I asked quietly, my eyebrows furrowing together to try to recover it myself.

"Very well. Come behind the counter and step into the room on the left," he instructed, giving me a smile and a polite nod. His eyes then fell back to the paper he was writing on, his occupation becoming refocused.

I entered the room, sitting down in the gray and blue chair that was in the middle of the room. The room smelled of rain and faintly of sea salt, two of my favorite scents. My surroundings morphed around me into enough light for a full moon, a slight breeze accompanying it to spread the scent around the room.

"So this is how you like the atmosphere?" Lucian's voice interrupted, the rustling of his wings fading.

"Well excuse me if I like peace more than you do," I mumbled with a small laugh. I felt his hands on my head, images beginning to flash in front of my eyes. I could feel the green that began to overtake my irises of brown, showing that I was having walls torn down.

I saw the beginning of the day, how I'd began to talk to Thomas. But then the girl I had seen earlier sat next to me, looking at peace and unafraid. Who was she? Why did I look like I was comfortable around her?

Children surrounded me, laughing and stroking my strangely discolored feathers. I could feel my brother's pride before it crashed into the feeling of agony. The scene had suddenly flashed to me being strapped to a chair, screaming.

Shocks of white entered my head as I sat with my head thrown back in pain. Michael simply shook his head and repeated that he was "sorry" and that it was the "only way to save me." Why was he just watching? Why did he seem like he was almost bursting into tears from my pain?

The image shut down, the moonlight only surrounding us. A sudden stream of burning light entered my head, threatening to burst through my skull. The pain sent my head back, my body breaking into convulsions as I fought to keep my body from breaking apart.

I blinked quickly, my eyes searching around the room. The room held nothing but moonlight and the smell of rain. What happened to me? Why did I feel as though my mind had been ripped apart and sewn back together? I took a deep breath, thinking of the events of yesterday. They easily came to me, almost too easy.

"So all I did was go to Thomas's class and carry souls?" I asked, feeling as though I had missed something in my sentence.

"Yes, that is all, I swear." Lucian's tone had taken a quick turn from friendly to terrified. I felt the wind of several pairs of wings, causing me to turn around. But my brother had disappeared almost into thin air. Where had he gone to? Why did he need more than himself?

I willed my mind to reach out to him, my body finding the outside of what appeared to be an operating room. I looked through the window and felt anger bubble under my skin. Michael stood before him, an angelic blade in his hand.

"What does he know?" he demanded of our brother, his eyes flashing gold with the promise of murder.

"He knows what happened yesterday. Everything but what you all did to him. I wiped it out." The angelic blade was then plunged into Lucian's shoulder and drug down to the middle of his arm. Beads of sweat began to dampen her hairline as he kept his composure from the wound.

"But I know what you did to him. So the second you kill me, the second he knows everything," he continued, glaring at his older brother. "So go ahead. Tear me to shreds. But you'll have him and God to deal with; and I promise you, Grant will make you wish you were in Hell. I've seen what he did to his own real brother for less than what you did to him. He'll-"

"I did it to protect him!" Michael shouted, twisting the knife. "He was going to fall," he whispered softly, his eyes focused on his brother's intently. "He was so close to falling. He was so close to.. You have no idea how he felt around her. By doing what I did, I have rescued him. Who knows what he would've done if he had still had his memories."

"I can understand taking them but what you did to him was much worse than that. You tortured it out of him, Michael. I could feel his pain when you dug your knives into him, when you shocked him until his brain was almost beyond repair. I felt him wanting to cry out for our Father because of what you did to him. Now tell me how in Heaven's name you can justify that to the rest of us?" Lucian shook his head, sweat rolling down his cheek, his eyes showing how scared he truly was.

"I don't have to make anyone else understand. They know that he's not like us. They know that he's more likely to end up corrupt," Michael growled, his eyes blazed with anger. "And I know you won't say a word to anyone. You know why? Because you're a coward."

I flattened against the wall, my eyes wide with slight despair. What had they done to me? What were they going to do to Lucian? I looked up into the sky, taking a deep breath. I knew I was going to sound like a child begging but I had no other choice. 'Father, I know I don't pray, but I need to speak with you. I need you.'


	4. Clearing Sins

_Authors Note:_

_In this chapter, we see that the person Grant has found that he can look up to, fails him (much like Garrett). This doesn't change his view of his Father but he is left in disappointment. He then does something he hasn't done before: let someone in. Skye learns more of his childhood and as she does, Grant learns that he is beginning to mend. But in the wake of what Skye has learned, she will also learn why Grant is one of the most feared angels; it isn't because he is an angel of death but rather something he carries with him that sets a blaze in him like Hell itself. There were some spelling and grammar errors so here's an updated version!_

Rays of light burst into the room, a man of pure creation standing before me. "You have called unto me. What do you need?" He smiled, his bright grey eyes locked with mine. No sorrow showed on his features, even in the smallest of wrinkles on his face.

"Michael," I began, almost breathed, panic in my voice. "He's gone against us. He's changing things in us. Why?" I searched his eyes, feeling like the small boy that had hoped for someone to protect me from my parents. Almost on cue, Lucian's cries pierced the air violently.

The Father's eyes widened in shock, looking through the window. His lips pursed into a thin line, His reflection showing shame in His eyes as they became downcast. "Before Zephiania fell, Michael came to me. He said he knew what he wanted his Earthly desire to be. And being as he had been so honorable in the past, that he always had been on the right side of things, I told him to tell me what it was."

He turned around, his focus flickering up to me. He looked heartbroken, as if things were out of His hands; almost like His wrists were bound. I looked to the figure of God with black hair and grey eyes of the moon. Why wasn't He stopping His creation from the destruction that was about to set itself free?

"He told me that he wanted the chance to correct his brothers, to led them on the right paths in all ways. And of course, he did have wonderful attentions. He was going to simply give my wisdom to them to keep them from straying. I agreed, not realizing his wrath would outpower all the goodness in him." I saw the Father's eyes become distant, as if He were thinking to that one moment again, as if he could have changed it. "And when Zephiania would not comply with Michael's wishes, Michael tore apart his brother's mind and put it back together with things missing in between."

The Father closed his eyes, a tear rolling down His cheek in sadness. "I can't stop him. This is what he wished for; my word was that an angel would have one Earthly wish, no matter how vulgar. And if I see it fit, I can make it eternal. But it can not undone. That was the agreement." He looked to the room of His creation being tortured at the hands of a brother.

"Grant, I know you may not understand but I'm sorry. I am so sorry for this, for what my angels have done to their own kind." With this, He was gone, beams of radiant glow filling the room before disappearing.

I looked back into the room, turning away from it. I couldn't help Lucian, just as I couldn't help Thomas all the time. Why was I trapped once again into the inevitable? Time always repeats itself; our own Father had warned us of that.

I walked away, knowing that the word between Michael and our Father would end in death if I tried to break it or stop him. From which party, I wasn't quite sure at the moment. What I didn't understand, however, was what had changed in Michael that made him snap? Was it the loss of a brother or was it just pure wrath?

I decided that I wouldn't speak to him about it but I would make sure to warn Lucian of it later and to always stay armed. Then it occurred to me whom Michael had been talking about when he said "her". It was the girl that I couldn't remember carrying; it had to be.

I appeared in the center of the walk way before Thomas's house, finding Phil sitting next to the girl, watching over her shoulder as she was playing Tetris.

"Hello," I greeted softly, watching the figures turn around and finding a pair of light brown eyes finding mine.

"Hey, I was just telling Phil about you," she said quietly, motioning for me to come closer. "He thinks it's odd that you became an angel, you know? I mean, it is but still. You're not that bad of a guy."

Why couldn't I remember telling her anything about myself? How did she know I wasn't a horrible person? "I need to talk to you for a moment; preferably alone, if you don't mind." I threw Phil an apologetic look before my gaze shifted back to hers.

She nodded, standing from her chair before her version of Heaven shifted. We were now in a room that looked to be a private library, a computer system at the furthest corner of the room, near the window. "So what did you want to talk about?'

"I.. Under circumstances, I have lost some of my memory," I began, clearing my throat. I shoved my hands into my pockets, tempted to pace around until the ground left imprints of my feet. "I can't remember carrying you or a single thing about you. It's not because I don't want to but.." A fire began to blaze within my eyes, and I knew it wasn't from the one that was currently lit at my side. "I just need to pick up on all of the things we've talked about, personal or not."

Her expression was morphed into one of confusion, one that engulfed her stance but she shrugged. "We talked about when you got your wings, a little bit about your brother. It isn't much to worry about, Grant."

My head turned to face her, my dark orbs narrowing in her direction. "How do you know my name? No one I've carried has ever.. How do you know?" My voice became strong again with the repeated question, my hands moving to rest on my hips in an authoritative manner.

"I asked you. You told me your name was Grant." She began to back away, fear becoming part of her body language. Her hands trembled slightly, her cheeks drew themselves in slightly, her gaze finding anywhere but mine. She seemed to be familiar with the action but silence covered us in a thin blanket.

I decided to back off, turning back to the fireplace. "What is your name?"

"Skye," she answered quietly, beginning to calm down a bit. But I sensed something odd about the name; what was her last name? If she had one, why didn't she say it?

"What's your _real_ name?" I inquired, flickering my focus back to her, only to get a blank stare. I let it drop before moving to the window. It seemed to be some place in England, one with a view of everything beautiful but still remote in its own way.

Skye moved so that she stood next to me, still keeping her watch on me. "You were saying something earlier, Grant. You said you could protect your brother here. What did you mean?"

The dryness of bones began in my throat, the words freezing on my tongue. How much had a revealed to her? Had I let her see the side of me that was almost a complete monster? The one that had torn several men apart, only to move onto the next?

"What I meant was that I used to have an older brother. He was.. He hated my little brother. So in the midst of everything, he would make me hurt the only family member I cared about. And if I didn't, he'd beat me. There was one time that he had just gotten so furious with Thomas; it was over something so ridiculous. It was because our mother gave him a look she didn't give us."

My tongue drew out slightly, wetting my lower lip in an attempt to keep everything inside myself from breaking. I remembered Christian pulling me into the room that Thomas and I shared. He put a iron rod in my hand and told me to teach Thomas his place. But I couldn't; I had dropped the rod and before I knew it, I felt my back tear open. I pulled Thomas into my arms, shielding him from the blows that came from Christian.

The iron rod that I had dropped was beginning to breaking my bones. I recalled screaming, Thomas crying; I also recalled begging Christian to stop, to just let things go. But he kept going and going. He didn't stop until I finally let Thomas go; I had let my little brother go so that he could run away. Christian made me look him in the eyes before he delivered the last blow.

I finally drew from the memory, finding that she still awaited my answer. "So I protected my little brother until I was beaten to a pulp. Christian would find him and do his work that I couldn't. It's my fault that Thomas is here, that he's only thirteen years old instead of thirty or forty. I failed him on Earth and I won't do it again. That's what I meant."

A scoff escaped from my left, a warm hand finding my chin in a tight grip. "Look at me," Skye commanded, causing my eyes to find her. "You didn't fail Thomas. You did what you could. And from seeing the way Thomas still lets you around him, I know he doesn't blame you. He knows you tried and you need to see that too."

Her hand fell away and I found myself wanting her warmth again. For the first time in centuries, I felt at peace with things from Earth. The memory replayed through my mind as we stared at each other but it didn't have the sting of that it had moments ago. Silence once again cloaked us but it wasn't an uncomfortable one like most would be. It felt as though I actually belonged in Heaven instead of in Hell as the devil's demon.

But one question still lingered with the new revelation that I had found in someone so.. human. How had she managed to swipe one thing from my bloody and guilt, not to mention sinful, consumed conscience?


End file.
